At the Mercy of TiberiusEvans, Augusta J. (Augusta Jane)
History
At the Mercy of Tiberius
Evans, Augusta J. (Augusta Jane)
Rome -- History -- Tiberius, 14-37 -- Fiction
"That is Gen'l Darrington's nick-name all over this section."
"When will the next train leave here?"
"Not until 3:05 A.M."
Beryl sat down on the edge of a baggage truck, and pondered the
situation. She knew that her mother, who had carefully studied the
railway schedule, was with feverish anxiety expecting her return by the
train, now many miles away; and she feared that any unexplained
detention would have an injurious effect on the sick woman's shattered
nerves.
Although she could ill afford the expense, she resolved to allay all
apprehension, by the costly sedative of a telegram.
Only a wall separated the ticket office from that of the "telegraph,"
and approaching the operator, Beryl asked for a blank form, on which
she wrote her mother's address, and the following message:
"Complete success required delay. All will be satisfactory. Expect me
Saturday. B. B."
When she had paid the operator, there remained in her purse, exclusive
of the gold coins received that afternoon, only thirty-eight cents.
Where could she spend the next seven hours? Interpreting the perplexed
expression of her face, the agent, who had curiously noted her
movements, said courteously:
"There is a hotel a few blocks off, where you can rest until train
time."
"I prefer to remain here."
"We generally lock up this office about half-past eight, and re-open at
half-past two, which gives passengers ample accommodation for the 3:05
train."
"Would you violate regulations by leaving the waiting-room open
to-night?"
"Not exactly; as of course we are obliged to keep open for delayed
trains; but it will be lonesome waiting, for no one stays here, except
the Night Train Despatcher, and the switch watchman. Still if it will
oblige you, miss, I will not lock up, and you can doze away the time by
spreading your shawl on two chairs. I am going to supper now, and shall
turn down the lights. One burner will be sufficient."
"Thank you very much. Where can I find some water?"
"In the cooler in the ladies' dressing-room. It is most unaccountably
hot tonight, and I never knew anything like it in October. There must
be a cyclone brewing somewhere not far off."
He lifted his hat, as he passed her, and disappeared; and the tired
girl seated herself near a window and stirred the dense, impure air by
fanning herself with her straw hat. Gradually the few stragglers
loitering about the station wandered away; the engineer stepped upon
the locomotive; a piercing whistle broke suddenly on the silence
settling down over the whilom busy precincts, and as the rhythmic
measure of the engine bell rang farewell chimes, a pyramid of sparks
leaped high, and the mighty mechanism fled down the track, hunting its
own echoes. The man in charge of the express office came out, looked up
and down the street; yawned, lighted his pipe, and after locking the
office, wended his way homeward.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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